


Just Let Me Focus

by SnapMyNeckAndCallMeLoki



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapMyNeckAndCallMeLoki/pseuds/SnapMyNeckAndCallMeLoki
Summary: Young!Reddie - Eddie can’t focus. Richie’s glasses are dirty, and Eddie can’t focus because he just wants to look at his eyes.





	Just Let Me Focus

Richie Tozier was never the definition of ‘organised’.

Eddie Kaspbrak knew this, but he had never realised how much little things about it would annoy him. Like, for instance, how Richie would never clean his glasses.

At first, he didn’t get why it was such an issue. Dirty glasses had never bothered him when it was anyone else. Eddie he just dismissed it as a case of ‘oh-my-god-there’s-so-much-bacteria-right-next-to-my-best-friend’s-eyes.’

Soon, however, he realised that wasn’t the case. He remembered a passing thought of ‘goddamnit, I can’t see his fucking eyes,’ and being so shocked that he’d fallen silent for at least ten minutes, unsure what to think about his own thoughts, or how to feel.

Sure, he liked making eye contact with people, it was a huge part of communication. But he liked it more with Rich, and he especially loved examining his eye colour as they talked. They were a deep hickory brown, similar to the colour of his pupils, but not as dark as Eddie’s own eyes. They’d light up and sparkle brightly when he’d get a reaction out of Eddie while teasing him, or when he won an argument. As much as he repressed it, Eddie loved Richie teasing him. And Eddie loved his stupid fucking eyes.

Naturally, this made Eddie want to clean Richie’s glasses any time he noticed a smudge. He never would, using the excuse that he just didn’t have anything to clean them with, since Richie always lost the microfibre cloths whenever he’d get a new pair. However, it wasn’t a problem for long.

Eddie had been home alone, when he rummaged through his mother’s things, looking for an old cloth, since she too wore glasses. It didn’t take long to find one, since Sonia Kaspbrak was a very organised woman, a habit she’d drilled into her son from a very young age. 

Even when he had the cloth, it took him a while before he actually decided that enough was enough, and that he just had to clean Richie’s glasses or he’d go ballistic.

The first time he plucked up the courage to do so, the group were all sat by the quarry after school. Their usual chatter and laughter filled the air around them. It was a good day; after the events with IT, the group had gotten closer - Eddie had to admit, he felt proud of being a loser now. 

Stanley and Richie had been scuffling because Rich had put grass in Stan’s backpack. Eddie had to bite the inside of his cheek so he didn’t laugh, when Stan had tackled Richie, and the two began play fighting. 

At some point, Stan knocked the glasses off Richie’s face. Rich gasped in mock horror - “I can’t see! Was that Stan, or someone with a dick?” He exclaimed, earning a round of laughs.

“I have a dick, jackass!” Stan had laughed, but stopped the fight, since Rich was literally blind.

When Richie found his glasses in the grass and put them back on, Eddie noticed a frown on his face. It took him a moment to figure out why, until he inevitably noticed the smudges on the lenses. Right. Richie was way too lazy to clean them.

“Great, now Eddie is a blob,” he complained.

“Do you want me to clean them?” Eddie blurted. “Your glasses,” he clarified, despite there being no need.

Richie looked confused. “Sure, Eds, but you’ll have to use your shirt. I know, terrifying, so many germs but I don’t have the cloth.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, I have one.”

There was a moment of silence. Eddie quickly scrambled to once again, explain. “My mom- she gave me one, because uh, she didn’t want my inhaler getting dirty or  
something,” he said, speaking way too quickly.

“Sure, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Just give me your fucking glasses, I can’t focus when they’re all smudged and shit!” Eddie snapped, snatching them from Richie’s face. 

Eddie dug the cloth from his fanny pack - he only carried one around now - and focused on working the smears from the lenses, finding it kind of therapeutic. He dragged the fabric over the glass probably three times too many, just to make sure. 

When he was finally satisfied, he tore his gaze from the glasses and back to Richie, who was staring at him with an expression that he couldn’t quite read. Then, as quickly as he saw the strange look, it was gone. 

Eddie didn’t understand the butterflies it gave him, or the way it made him smile softly. To counteract the almost uncomfortable feelings, he responded to Richie’s previous joke.

“The only thing my mom sat on is your blind ass. That’s why you’re so blind.”

As Eddie passed Rich the glasses, their hands brushed briefly. Again, came the butterflies. There was a brief moment of eye contact, and Eddie swore he saw the fainted pink tinge on Richie’s pale, freckled face. 

After that, Eddie was quiet. Rich was a boy. He shouldn’t feel this way over another boy, it was wrong. At least, that’s what he’d always been told. But it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like warming his hands by a dying fire after a cold day, or guzzling a cold drink while the sun scorched down on the town of Derry.

He enjoyed how Richie made him feel, despite how secretive it had to be. Little did Eddie Kaspbrak know, however, that for Richie Tozier it was the exact same thing.

Richie had feelings for Eddie. He’d admitted this to himself a long time ago, back when the group was split and Bowers had made fun of him for liking boys. He remembered how he could’ve told him otherwise, but he just couldn’t. 

Because when the slur had hit him, he thought of Eddie.

When he’d been talking to Bowers’ cousins he’d been thinking of Eddie. When he sat alone on the bench by the statue, he thought of Eddie. And when he recovered from Pennywise’s attack, he thought of Eddie.

That was when he carved their initials into the kissing bridge. The encounter made him realise just how real the possibility was that he’d never be able to admit to anyone else that he had feelings for his best friend.

So, he admitted it in splinters and anonymity. 

From then on, keeping his crush hidden was harder than he expected. It was almost like, since he’d officially came out to himself, in a way, he owed it to himself to be proud of it. But it wasn’t that easy.

There were many moments that he’d find himself in adoration of Eddie. Teasing him was so much better than teasing the others - his over the top reactions made his heart feel like mush, as if he was watching an angry puppy bark. 

Oh yeah, Richie had it bad.

On the aforementioned day by the quarry, Richie had truly been scared that he’d been caught out. He’d been himself, loud and obnoxious, until the moment Eddie snatched his glasses.

It took him a moment and a squint of the eye to adjust to a now blurry world, but once he did, Richie’s gaze was fixated on Eddie. He found himself startled, breathless. But why?

Surely, Eds being a little shit didn’t affect him that much?

But that was the thing. He wasn’t just being a little shit, he was doing something nice for him, seemingly unprompted. Richie’s comments never usually sparked him to offer help, so why now? 

He knew Eddie hated germs, but surely this wasn’t just that? 

Okay, maybe he was getting his hopes up a little too much. Eds was, well... Eds! He enjoyed cleaning as much as he enjoyed Street Fighter, it was almost odd. In an endearing way, of course.

Although he was kind of blurry, Eds looked so undeniably... fuck, Richie didn’t know what word to use. Cute? Adorable? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Eddie’s furrowed brow, and the fact that his tongue poked out of his mouth when he was focused, made Richie’s insides stir like soup. 

When Eds looked at him, it took him a moment to realise that he was staring. As if he wasn’t already flustered enough, their hands touching as Eddie passed him back his glasses made his cheeks redden slightly. 

Richie did his best to appear unbothered as he placed the glasses atop of his nose. But Eddie’s small smile, and the comment he almost missed, caused a wide grin to spread on his lips.

It was just because of the joke, he told himself. That was what the rest of the group would think, so he tried his best to keep it that way. This was his secret - one that he absolutely had to keep well guarded. 

Surprisingly, over the next few weeks, Eddie made a habit of cleaning Richie’s glasses. Not that he minded, of course. Each time was an opportunity to watch that to die for look on Eds’ face as he focused, though it was through blurry eyesight. The only thing he wished was different, was the fact that he couldn’t see it in detail.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it often. As he noticed the frequency of the habit, he began to purposely become careless. Picking them up by the lenses, dropping them in the dusty confines of the clubhouse, or even just acting like he’d accidentally touched them while rubbing his eyes.

One particular instance of this, was in the clubhouse, when Eddie had gotten mad about the hammock. Secretly Richie knee that Eds would get in the hammock regardless of whether he left or not, which was kind of why he’d stayed there. 

When Ed’s kicked his glasses off of his face and onto the floor, Richie didn’t complain. He simply picked them up - improperly, of course, and placed them on his face as if he hadn’t just gotten them dirty.

The effect was almost immediate.

“Dammit, Richie, really?!” Eddie exclaimed. “You always get them so fucking dirty!”

As he usually did, Eddie reached for the glasses to take. But since they were in the hammock, he had to awkwardly lean over Richie. He certainly hadn’t planned that, and he has to strongly resist the urge to pull the other boy down so Eds’ was resting on his chest, and tell him to just relax.

Richie’s face was flushed by the time Eddie was back on his side of the hammock, furiously cleaning. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched Eds repeat the cleaning process for what felt like the millionth time that month. It still hadn’t gotten old. 

And just like every other time, Eddie handed back the glasses, and their hands brushed, the two boys lingering for a moment. Richie snapped out of his trance-like state by Beverly giggling.

It was at this point that he realised that the rest of the Loser’s clubs were smirking at them.

“What?” Eddie had asked innocently, truly seeming oblivious, yet cautious.

Then, came another realisation, as Beverly and Richie made eye contact. Shit. They knew. Rich panicked, eyes widening as he desperately shook his head, thankful that Eddie was chirping away in the background, demanding to know what was so funny.

Richie had never been more thankful for a friend like Bev, when she smiled simply and said, “nothing, Eddie. We’re just not surprised that you can fit on the hammock while someone else is there.”

Oddly enough, Richie didn’t mind that the others were painfully aware of what was going on. In fact, he was kind of glad. Maybe it meant they were noticing stuff that he was too scared to consider. Like, for example, something that indicated that Eds could like him back. 

He had no doubt they’d be accepting of his sexuality if he ever explicitly came out. They were losers, after all. Outcasts - they were kind of supposed to be different.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was terrified of Eddie himself catching onto his feelings for him.

The third stand out memory that he cherished, well, wasn’t really a third time at all.

It stuck out in Richie’s mind as an ‘Eddie-cleaning-his-shit’ moment, but as it happened, it become clear that it was far more than that. Truth be told, it was his favourite memory of anything in his entire life. Even if at first, it felt like one of the more detestable moments he’d experienced.

“...Rich, just sit down!” Eddie had all but yelled, the clubhouse protecting them from the world above, where Bowers was no doubt still searching for them.

Richie sighed, but obliged, dropping into the chair, blood dripping from his nose and lip. Eddie didn’t even bother dragging one of the other stools over, he just stood between Richie’s legs, brushing his hair out of his face with his hand to fully examine the injuries.

Startled, Richie felt his face flush. He knew the throbbing in his face should’ve been more important, but all he could focus on was the boy in front of him.  
-  
“You fucking fag! Where the hell are you and your boyfriend running to? Huh?”

Richie would’ve laughed, if Bowers had said anything else. He was fine with being called a loser, or ‘four eyes’. He could take pride in those things. But being gay? Being chased by Henry fucking Bowers put into perspective that he couldn’t just be happy about that. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right.  
-  
Richie was truly caught of guard. Eddie was doing that a lot lately - surprising him, sending butterflies rippling through his stomach. But for the first time in a while, those butterflies brought him shame. He averted his gaze, a deepest frown on his face.

“Rich, are you okay?”  
-  
Mere moments later, Richie toppled to the ground, pain jolting through his left leg as a rock that Bowers threw sent him down. Almost instantly, he was pinned, the older teen’s arm keeping him down by the throat. Richie’s glasses were knocked off in the fall.

Bug-eyed, he stared up. Bowers arm was raised, hand balled into a fist.

“Oh, shit—“

Crack!

Richie let out a sound of complaint as knuckles connected with his nose. His head was thrown to the side, where he saw Eddie frozen to the spot.  
-  
“Rich?”

“...Huh? Oh-“ Richie cleared his throat, blinking, face flushing at how close the other boy was. 

And shit, he could actually see Eddie’s face clearly, since his glasses were miraculously clean and undamaged after the encounter.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Eds.”

He noticed Eddie pulling out antiseptic wipes from the fanny pack on his hip, and immediately spoke up out of fear that this would really mess things up. He didn’t want to mess up. He didn’t want Eddie to know.

“Nonono, Eddie, you don’t have to—“

“—Are you kidding me? You just got the shit beat out of you!”

“I mean, it was kind of an overreaction—“

“No it wasn’t! It’s Bowers! You told him he was a psycho and that he probably killed his dad!”

“He totally did, though!”

“Irrelevant! Now shut up and let me focus.”  
-  
“Eds, what the hell are you doing?! Get outta here!” Richie yelled, before the fist connected with his eye, knuckles skimming his cheekbone painfully.

Richie squeezed his eyes shut to try and ease the pain. He felt Bowers’ nasty, greasy hands slap his face to move his head. Richie was too out of it to protest.  
-  
“Right— sorry,” Richie apologised, holding his breath. 

Eddie gently put a finger below Richie’s chin, tilting his head up ever so carefully. Of course, he was too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice the impact it had.

Richie gulped, heat rushing to his cheeks, the only thing rushing through his mind being a string of ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!’  
-  
Richie endured two more punches one cutting his lip - Bowers must’ve been wearing a ring, and one to the jaw, before something, or rather, someone, shoved him off Richie.

Sure enough, there stood Eddie in all of his tiny glory. He wasn’t the strongest, but he had the advantage of his advance being unexpected. 

“Rich, we gotta go, come on!” He’d yelled, grabbing Richie by the hand and hauling him to his feet. As he was dragged up, Rich grabbed his glasses from beside him, clumsily sticking them onto his face. 

The pair remained hand in hand as they sprinted away, eventually finding themselves in the Barrens. From there, they took refuge in the Clubhouse, hoping that Bowers hadn’t followed them so far.  
-  
Richie appreciated how tender Eddie was being. Each swipe at his bloody nose and busted lip was careful, and there was a small pause to see if Richie would flinch. If he did, Eds would mutter a quiet ‘sorry,’ and repeat, applying less pressure.

Of course, Richie’s heart was pounding the entire time. He was almost certain that Eddie could hear the rapid thumping - the clubhouse was so quiet, Rich was sure that if a pin dropped, he’d hear it.

Richie had been paralysed with fear before. But this wasn’t fear. He was mesmerised by the freckles dotting across Eddie’s cheek - he swore he saw constellations in the small patterns that the marks created. 

Truly, for the first time, he felt that he understood what it meant to be starstruck.

He noticed when Eddie’s eyes met his own, and the other boy paused, expression matching what Richie imagined his own to be like.

“Richie...” Eddie‘s voice was quiet. 

Rich saw it in his face. The concern, the affection. Maybe he was delirious, but he was certain. And he noticed the flash of uncertainty in Eds’ face, how he opened his mouth to probably rant about how he was stupid, and a Trashmouth.

But he refused to let the moment go. 

Without giving himself a moment to hesitate, Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s, eyes slamming shut.

The kiss was short, timid. When Richie peeled his eyes open, dread turned to mild panic, as Eddie stood wide eyed. He didn’t think it possible, but the silence grew quieter.

“...Kiss me with a bloody lip again and I might just murder you,” Eddie slipped out.

Richie slumped, laughing a soft, relieved laugh, though he was unable to hide the nerves it carried.

“And, uh... when it’s not bloody?” He asked, a smile crossing his features.

For a moment,Eddie didn’t answer. He only smiled that very same smile that almost killed Richie at the Quarry. Expect, Richie could see his eyes sparking clearly, and the way his lips twitched to form the expression.

“Just let me focus, Trashmouth Tozier.”


End file.
